ut Miss Sedgeley was too much subjected to the power of her uncle and
aunt to have a will of her own, at least, to dare to utter it. She
received the commands of Lady Bendham with her accustomed submission,
while all the consolation for the grief they gave her was, "that she
resolved to make a very bad wife."

"I shall not care a pin for my husband," said she to herself; "and so I
will dress and visit, and do just as I like; he dare not be unkind
because of my aunt. Besides, now I think again, it is not so
disagreeable to marry _him_ as if I were obliged to marry into any other
family, because I shall see his cousin Henry as often, if not oftener
than ever."

For Miss Sedgeley--whose person he did not like, and with her mind thus
disposed--William began to force himself to shake off every little
remaining affection, even all pity, for the unfortunate, the beautiful,
the sensible, the doating Agnes; and determined to place in a situation
to look down with scorn upon her sorrows, this weak, this unprincipled
woman.

Connections, interest, honours, were powerful advocates. His private
happiness William deemed trivial compared to public opinion; and to be
under obligations to a peer, his wife's relation, gave greater renown in
his servile mind than all the advantages which might accrue from his own
intrinsic independent worth.

In the usual routine of pretended regard and real indifference--sometimes
disgust--between parties allied by what is falsely termed _prudence_, the
intended union of Mr. Norwynne with Miss Sedgeley proceeded in all due
form; and at their country seats at Anfield, during the summer, their
nuptials were appointed to be celebrated.

William was now introduced into all Lord Bendham's courtly circles. His
worldly soul was entranced in glare and show; he thought of nothing but
places, pensions, titles, retinues; and steadfast, alert, unshaken in the
pursuit of honours, neglected not the lesser means of rising to
preferment--his own endowments. But in this round of attention to
pleasures and to study, he no more complained to Agnes of "excess of
business." Cruel as she had once thought that letter in which he thus
apologised for slighting her, she at last began to think it was wondrous
kind, for he never found time to send her another. Yet she had studied
with all her most anxious care to write him an answer; such a one as
might not lessen her understanding, which he had often praised, in his
e